


Fated

by igrab



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6200572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrab/pseuds/igrab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just a small snapshot of Akashi helping a friend find a piece of himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fated

_Swish, thunk._

_Swish, thunk._

_Swish, thunk._

"Mm," Akashi hums, and his feet knock against the side of the box he's propped himself up on. "I think I understand, now."

Midorima isn't panting for breath. He's calm, collected. Poised. "And?"

_Swish, thunk._

There's a light footfall as Akashi hops down to his feet, strolls over and looms, somehow, despite being so small. He can feel the pressure, the weight of his presence, even though he can't see a bit of him.

"See. You've tensed up, here. And here." Two light touches, each making him - almost imperceptibly - flinch. 

He clenches his jaw. "I can't help it," he mutters. "I can _feel_ you behind me."

"A good instinct, but you will have to get over this if you're ever going to play on my level." He sidles into Midorima's field of view, now, the soft smile and gentle tone mitigating words that might otherwise have been harsh, and drops into a defensive stance. "Again."

_Swish._

_Clang!_

It's not as if Akashi actually moves to stop him, which is somehow even more humiliating - it just serves to further underscore his point. The mere presence of another person, physically on the court, near him - it does something to the way he shoots. He's still good, but he isn't _perfect_.

"Midorima." Akashi frowns at him, concerned. Thoughtful. "Why do you play basketball?"

He huffs at his friend. "You know the answer to that."

"No. That is why you started playing." He smiles, small and private. _Because you introduced me to it_ , the unsaid phrase hangs between them, but neither feel the need to put it into words. "Why do you keep going?"

There are more answers to that than Midorima knows what to do with. _Because it's become part of my routine. Because I don't want to disappoint you. Because I don't give up even when something gets difficult. Because you're the only friend I have._ All of them are accurate, but none of them are the _truth_.

He stares at the basket. Sets his jaw.

"Because I like the feeling of being good at something," he mutters, "and winning because of it."

* * *

Nothing had ever felt as easy and beautiful as the first time that Akashi had placed a basketball in his hands, pointed at the hoop, and said, quite simply, "all you have to do is get it in."

This is what he expected: hours of tirelessly shooting hoops until he could finally adjust and adjust and adjust his reactions, just to accomplish something that Akashi was already brilliant at.

Instead: he tossed it. It went in.

Akashi, smiling like he'd already foreseen the outcome (which, Midorima would come to learn, he had), held out his left hand, palm up. Midorima reached out with his own, only to find that his hand was - shaking.

"I knew you'd be incredible at this, Midorima," he murmured, the smile stretching to one of true delight. "Together, we are going to _win_."

He stared down at their hands and realized, with a start, that he was _happy_. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

* * *

Akashi smiles and nods, as if proud at being given the correct answer. (Proud that Midorima knew what the correct answer was, most likely. He plays these small mind games easily, and while Midorima can recognise them, he is still quite powerless against it.) "Then that is the feeling you must carry with you, onto the court. Are you afraid you'll miss?"

"No." It's the truth.

"Are you afraid of your mark blocking your shot?"

Midorima peers down at him with a droll look. "If it was _you_ , perhaps."

Akashi laughs, a little chirp of a thing that takes them both by surprise. "Well." He nods, acknowledging the response. "Would knowing whether I might or might not succeed change how you shoot?"

Midorima considers this one. "... No." Other shooters, perhaps. But he doesn't mess around, not when his weapon grows stronger with clarity of purpose. "It might change _when_ I take the shot, though."

"Indeed." Akashi nods. "And if you make the wrong decision, there are consequences. However." He leans over to grab another ball, then, lines himself up in a perfect imitation of Midorima's stance, and....

_Swish, thunk._

"...Once you have committed to shooting, there can be no room for doubt. Everything else is immaterial - the people, the court, the defense, the crowds and lights and energy. You are alone, making a shot you have made hundreds of times before. The outcome is already set." A smile twists onto his face. "Fated, you might even say."

Midorima stares at the hoop. _Fated_. It's not a word Akashi would use lightly, not with him. 

"Go on, then," his friend murmurs, close enough that he can whisper and still be heard. "Shoot."

Midorima picks up a basketball and holds it for a moment. His eyes flutter, almost closing. Akashi shifts forward.

 _Fated_ , he thinks.

_Swish._

He turns around, not needing to see the outcome. He already knows what it will be.

_Thunk._


End file.
